Short Black Hair
by ArtisticMasochist
Summary: What if Pyramid head wasn't created by James? What if he was there all along? Enter Cameron, a photographer who loses his memory in a car accident. After his recovery, his dreams are haunted by a woman who beckons him to silent hill...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Okay, it's me again! I figure..i'm taking too long with my story, "Regrets"…And I've been contemplating on showing a sneak peek of my next fanfic, "Short. Black Hair.", A silent hill Fanfiction I've been waiting to do too. I'm warning you all now..this isn't Mature "for adults only" for no reason. It will contain violence, nudity, Adult Language, and …There is a Rape scene. So don't go telling me I didn't warn you all 'cause I did! If you're too squeamish, then you might not wanna read this and skip along. I always read up on Silent Hill Fanfics and often saw some comments that always say that they never see good Pyramid Head Fanfics…; and he just so happens to be one of my favorite characters and NO, not for the rape stuff. Rofl. He's just an awesome character design. So here it is! **

**I WARN YOU. Others that do read this…Gimmie reviews? **

_The stench of blood and rust was perhaps the only thing that finally stirred Ana Brooks from her slumber._

_**It stinks in here…**_

_Eyes finally opened, but were quickly shut from the sudden sting of dilating pupils beneath the bright observation lights beaming down upon her face. It had her groan with slight irritation. The situation called for a good rubbing to rid herself of both the irritation and the groggy goop in her eyes, but as she attempted to do so, something held her down by the wrist._

"_What the hell…" She grumbled and jerked once more, having the same result as before. She tried to move an ankle, but it was held down as well, sending the woman into a mild panic. "No way…What is this!?" She cried out and began to struggle against these unseen forces until her eyes finally had a chance to adapt to the light, giving her an opportunity to stare down onto an old, mildewed leather restraint strapped tightly to her wrist. _

"_Oh god…"_

_Never in a million years did she think she'd ever be in these restraints. Only people who were in need of 'help', needed restraints—not her! Every time she passed by the paranoid and unstable who writhed and screamed against the restraints, she always felt a sense of guilt. There were times when she wondered how it felt to be under the leather or wrapped up in a jacket. How would it feel to be unable to move? To only scream obscenities at the walls? To have your sense of security and control taken away as you're carted down the hallways to god knows where? The thought alone was disturbing enough, but what bothered her the most is what the patients screamed out. All of them had something in common; their stories. They all screamed of unholy monsters, throbbing blood red walls, and the steam that would rise from the rusty, grated floors. Every story felt as if it were fabricated from the remnants of their nightmares—no, it sounded as if they all had a taste of hell. _

_Now, she felt their pain._

_Hot tears streaked the sides of her greasy face as she continued to struggle upon the gurney in the warm, musty room. "COME ON!" she screamed in futile effort and fought harder against the restraints to only flop back down in defeat. Already, she could feel the burns swelling upon her wrists. She wasn't strong enough to break free…But she couldn't just sit and wait for the culprit to come around the corner. Like hell they'd let her go if she said please. The thought alone had fear seeping out of every pore. _

_**Maybe this is some sick joke…**_

_Well if it really were a joke, then they did one hell of a job. She took a moment to survey her surroundings. Any idiot could tell that this was in the hospital…But it was a hospital she had never seen before. No hospital would reek of mildew and blood…No hospital would have red-rusted walls..Nor would any tool upon trays and tables be caked with things she simply didn't want to identify. Then eyes caught notice of the glass and how she could see nearly a fourth of the hallway. Observation glass, no doubt, despite it being stained and cracked. So she was in the observation wing…But why? It made no sense. Normally they were used for patients under critical conditions…But how the way this room was set up, was as if it were prepped for surgery. She could see the rusted tools scattered about the counter tops, the old medical equipment and I.V. stands. What caught her eye as she looked about, was something circular hanging on the wall not too far from where she was strapped down. It was big…Probably heavy…and there was a circular end…With teeth at the edges…_

_**A…Circular Saw?...Why the hell is that here?!**_

_Panic once again had her struggling upon the gurney once more. At first, she wanted someone to come around to tell her it was nothing but a joke, but now, she preferred to escape on her own. Who knows what that kidnapper was thinking—especially with a SAW hanging within a convenient reach. Everything was hitting her at once. The restriction, the eerie feel of this room…But most of all, it was how disturbingly quiet the air was around her. Should anyone drop a pin, she would most likely hear it._

_**What is going on?...**_

_After what seemed like an eternity, a heavy "thump" permeated through the deadly silence that began to drive her insane._

_**Thump… -**_

_**Thump…-**_

_Someone was coming…and they sounded heavy…Big…The steps continued, nearly matching the rhythm of her heartbeat. Eyes averted towards the observation glass once more, staring out into the grimy hallway where the heavy footfalls echoed from._

_She wished she hadn't._

_At first, all she could see was a blunt, rusted edge, but the more the being trudged into view, the more…bizarre this stranger's appearance became. The heavy footfalls belonged to a man dressed in nothing but a butcher's apron, yellowed and stained with patches of mildew and…fresh blotches of blood. Thick rubber boots stomped heavily upon the steamy grated floors of the hallway that only now Ana took notice of._

_**Grated floors…**_

_In it's right hand, the white leathery fabric of his glove groaned in protest against the tightened grip upon a corroded, seven-foot spear. In it's left, dragged a feminine leg belonging to a woman dragged mercilessly upon the steamy floor. What made his appearance so strangely unique yet terrifying was the giant steel pyramid helmet the man wore. It covered his entire __**head **__Rather than just settled upon it. What once must have been silver, was now corroded with the same red-orange rust that tainted the jagged tip of his spear. Blood had been splattered upon the helmet as well, rolling down in rivulets to splash upon his exposed, well-toned biceps._

_Ana couldn't help but cease her struggling and gawk at such a monstrosity and it's prey. She watched in horror as the man dropped the woman's leg just to reach down and pick her up by the neck, slamming her against the rusted wall with a thump that seemed louder to her than it should've been. The man leaned in and… __**smelled **__her from head to toe. After a while, the helmet suddenly twitched in disgust and released the woman. As she slumped onto the floor, the man's arms flailed about. His torso twisted this way and that in a strange trance-like dance while the woman's legs suddenly rose and kicked away at him. Soon after his short performance, the spear was lifted and driven into the woman's breast. Ana grimaced as the spear impaled the body with a sickening squish, but it wasn't enough to turn Ana away…Even as the man suddenly continued to viciously stab the woman over and over again. With sick satisfaction after the final stab, the man ripped the rusted spear tip from the corpse crumpled before him, the rusted helmet tilted downward to admire his work. Only after his rage had died, did it dawn upon Ana that she could easily be spotted being strapped down to the gurney and so vulnerable to whatever he wished to do to her. Maybe…maybe he wouldn't notice her…and then she could somehow get out of these cuffs and…_

_And it seemed like god favored her in the depths of this nightmarish hell. The man turned upon thick soles and continued down the hallway, leaving Ana to the silence that had claimed her before. For a moment she held in a breath, fearing that should she even release a sigh, that monster would come and claim her as his next unfortunate victim. Seconds passed and she couldn't wait any longer. The breath was released, but what came out of her mouth was unexpected. With that release of breath, did she whisper almost in a seductive manner._

" _**The Red Pyramid…" **_

_That alone had her suddenly gasp. Why did she say that? Her thoughts were nothing more than trying to get the fuck off this gurney, but the moment he had disappeared down the hall, thoughts suddenly turned onto him…and the thought of him suddenly had her body grow hot, her thighs tighten and…_

_Oh god, what was she thinking!? That's just it. She HAD to stop thinking and get the hell OUT of there before any other sick thoughts began to bleed into her head again. Hopes were still high despite the fat chance she had of breaking free of the restraints. Again and again, she'd tug, gritting her teeth against the bruising she felt quickly developing within those delicate wrists. She didn't care…So long as these things were undone so she could get the hell…_

_The raspy breathing of another froze Ana's escaping attempts. Slowly, her gaze shifted back to the glass to where she saw him again. This time however, the blunt end of his helmet faced in her direction. If It weren't for that massive pyramid helmet, she knew he would've pressed his ugly face up against the glass. His bloodied gloved hands suddenly pressed upon the glass, smearing crimson over the frail surface. He saw her. He wanted her…_

_Like hell he would. _

_She wasted no time in struggling with the restraints now that the Red pyramid turned away. She didn't know how he was going to get in..She wanted out! God once again seemed to answer her pleas as the left restraint finally gave up in an unusual way. Her wrist suddenly felt wet and grimey as the leather began to actually melt away. It felt disgusting, but it was better than being restrained here. Just as she was pulling away at the right wrist, the glass suddenly smashed in, sending shards of glass bursting into the room and bouncing off of Ana as she curled instinctively to protect herself. The wind came shortly after, whizzing past the woman who gagged at the scent of rot and formaldehyde. Arms dropped from her face and down towards the other end of the wall. God, once again, she wished she didn't._

_The woman's corpse lay in a mangled heap against the wall. Limbs were twisted to where the snapped edges of white bone protruded and flesh exposed. Glass shards of various sizes were found all over the body, sticking out from various places and even embedding themselves into the jagged holes that were driven into no more than a few minutes ago. Then eyes began to wander over to the corpse's face and widened in both fear and disgust. What once was a face, was now a twisted blob of flesh that patches of scraggly black hair failed to hide. And then there was the sickly white skin..the veins spreading out…_

_Ana screamed and feet kicked away the melting restraints. She had to get out of here…she had to get out of this hell! What was that thing?! It sure as fuck wasn't a human if it didn't have a face. Just as she was about to scramble off the gurney, a strong, leathery hand had taken a firm grip of her shoulder and shoved her right back onto the moldy, stained sheets. She cried out in surprise, but getting a better look at who was holding her down, she now began to scream again. _

_It was the Red Pyramid..the very one who's name she whispered from dry lips. _

"_N-NO! Please NO!..." She began to beg and thrash under the towering monster as he leaned closer. He slipped between her thrashing legs as both leathery hands snatched her bruised wrists and held them down effortlessly. Just like he had done to the other, he leaned closer, the blunt end of the rusted red helmet hovering just inches above her. She'd hear him sucking in as much of her scent as he could. Ana whimpered and trembled beneath him, begging and pleading to him to stop his sick games. _

_As if he had enough of her pleas, A hand left one of her wrists and clamped tightly upon her throat, leaving the woman to gasp as the sick bastard suddenly shivered in ecstasy at the sight of her suffering beneath him. He released the other wrist and snatched a portion of that tight, white nurse's dress that he had often seen his victims in before he tore them away from their bodies. Her nails digging into his skin didn't matter…because he didn't feel the pain. With a yank, the uniform was ripped wide open for him to see, having buttons fly to various corners of the corrosive room. And as her breasts were in full display, he leaned down once again, shivering with the pleasure he had of degrading her. Her breasts..her thighs…He wished he could taste her, run his tongue all along her body..But alas, the helmet had always gotten in the way..and it always would for his eternal damnation. Maybe this one…this one could satisfy his needs…_

_Ana knew where this was going quick..especially when he suddenly grinded his hips against her own. The feel of his arousal grinding between her thighs had gotten muscles to suddenly tighten in her body..But was it from being disgusted or…pleasured? She gritted her teeth and fought against him once more only to have that hand tighten about her throat once again. Her vision began to double, breaths grew short..and just when she thought that the darkness would overcome her, he released her, letting the stale air suck into that bruised windpipe and filled her lungs. She groaned, gasped and cough, feeling so weak..So powerless…That is, until she felt him again, bare this time against her. This was it…He was going to defile her and…_

_Before she could think of anymore, a white-hot pain suddenly flared between her legs as he brutally stretched her beyond her limits with his length…._

_The only thing Ana could think of now, she screamed out for anyone to hear…_

"_CAAAMEROOON!" _

**Author's Note: aaand that's it for now! You'll have to wait for the Resident Evil fanfiction to finish before I even touch this one again. Lol ugh…what am I thinking? Anyway, please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Ok so I'm partially back…Sort of. There's a lot going on in my life now. Trying to move out of my mom's house, trying to find a studio…not to mention, the Kawaii Kon's coming up faster than I want it to and I'm trying to prepare my damn prints. Anyway, so the least I can do is put up another chapter for this story. I'm winging it pretty much with all the ideas still fresh in my head. **

**Criticism is welcome, but don't burn my face off….and I love comments as much as I love cookies. Please enjoy this next chapter!**

"**ANNNAAA!!!"**

"Cameron! Cameron, calm down! It was just a dream!"

"NO! NO! Oh…Oh GOD…She needs my HELP! LET GO!"

"Ana isn't here, Cameron! There's no one else here! It was just a nightmare! NURSE!" **Thwack! **"Ungh!"

"LET GO OF ME!"

Chaos erupted in room 237 that broke through the golden silence in Brahms Hospital. Patients and staff alike froze in their places as two nurses rushed into the room where a man screamed and screamed a woman's name and thrashed with the staff until he won second best in the twenty minute struggle. After managing to sedate the man, the two nurses and the doctor warily trudged out from the patient's room. One nurse had somehow gotten his green scrubs torn at the collar. The other had angry red welts running down his forearm from the man's onslaught. Out of the three, the doctor had it worse; a broken nose where small streams of blood seeped through the cracks of his fingers as he held hands to his face. Yeah, that's what he got for thinking he could somehow manage to calm the man down. For an average build, the man had put up one hell of a fight against three individuals and managed to put the hurting on each of them.

The day progressed on well into the late afternoon where the warm, welcoming orange glow seeped through the windows of the very hallway that the doctor made his way through with a series of medical charts in his grasp. He approached room 235.

_-Animal attack…Critical condition. Will require close observation and may need another surgery.-_

He dropped the chart into the plastic bin beside the door and continued down the hall. Room 236 was the next stop and he was quick to leaf through the report.

_-Gunshot wound to the torso. Surgery completed on February 1__st__, 2010. Close observation required.-_

The report was dropped into the bin and the doctor continued on to his last stop: room 237 where he paused at the open doorway and skimmed through the report.

_-Car accident. Severe head trauma with minor cuts and bruises. Will require close observation and tests for brain damage.-_

As he continued to read, a picture slipped from in between the sheets and fluttered to the floor. Grunting with annoyance, he bent to retrieve the picture that he turned over in his hands. At first, he couldn't process what he was seeing. Was this even possible? His gaze quickly switched between the slumbering patient and the photograph he held within his fingertips.

_-That's…Impossible. He should have bones broken, things punctured…No, he should've been dead. How?...-_

No. Nevermind the 'how'. What mattered now is that this man was in his care and it was god's blessing that he made it out of that wreck still in one piece. With a hard swallow and an adjustment of those thick-framed glasses, he tucked the picture back into the report and pulled up a seat next to the patient's bedside as he slowly began to stir from his slumber.

The world came to him as a blur of colors that at first didn't make any sense to him. Pupils dilated harshly at the overhead light that made him groan in protest and turn away. His brain felt like mush and his body felt like dead weight jell-o.

"Welcome back to the real world, Mr. Black."

That immediately grabbed his attention as he turned towards the white blob sitting at his bedside, reclined in the chair in a rather relaxed manner.

"What?...Who…Where am I?..."

"Relax. You're in Brahms Hospital. I'm Dr. Stalin."

For some reason, taking in all that information at once made his brain hurt more than it should. Quickly, he began to sit up from the mass of pillows he leaned against and instantly regretted his decision once nausea kicked him in the face. However, Stalin was quick to rise and force him back against the pillows.

"Woah there. I know hospitals are scary, but you shouldn't go anywhere until we give you a full examination. Now…" Stalin began as he pulled out a pen light and examined each eye. "Do you remember your name?"

Wow, and it hurt a lot more to think. His brows wrinkled as he fought to spit out his name "C-Cameron…Cameron Black." He figured out his last name from what the Doctor had addressed him as.

"Good. Follow the light." The pen drifted left…and right with Cameron's attention trailing after it. "Do you remember what happened before and after the car accident? Where were you going?"

Cameron blinked in surprise as he tore his attention from the small light and right into those dark brown hues behind thick-framed spectacles. "Car accident?" He quipped with a puzzled expression as the doctor nodded.

"Yeah. A really bad one too. You're lucky to only get out of that with only minor cuts and bruises…Oh, and the hit to the head of course. So, do you remember anything?"

Once again his brain began to work overtime as it fought to grind through any memories he managed to hang onto. After a minute or two, Cameron's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and his gaze shifted down onto his lap. "N-No…I can't remember anything…I don't even know why I was in the car. I…Don't even remember what I did yesterday."

The penlight was tucked back into Stalin's coat pocket as he reached up to unravel the gauze wrapped around Cameron's head who failed to even notice it in the first place. "Well, you shouldn't remember yesterday or the day before that. You were out for three days. I was worried that the trauma was too severe," Stalin replied and held up three fingers for Cameron's bewildered gaze to lock upon. "How many fingers?"

Only then did Cameron really take in the man's features. It was painfully obvious the man was balding and was somehow trying to save what hair he had left. Thick brows furrowed and contorted his forehead into a series of wrinkles. What really caught Cameron's attention though, was the way the Doctor's glasses rested upon the thick gauze haphazardly taped over the nose that failed to hide the ugly purple bruising beneath. Cameron frowned. "What the hell happened to your face?"

It was Stalin's turn to frown as he began to examine the shaved patch of Cameron's head where stitches were evident. So far, they were intact. "Let's just say that…You taught me the meaning of 'don't judge a book by it's cover' in a more…physical, but direct way," he grumbled in return and picked up the gauze to throw in the trash.

As the doctor left to rummage through the cabinets for a fresh roll, It didn't take long for Cameron's eyes to widen at the realization of what had transpired earlier that day. No wonder the doctor's voice sounded so plugged. "Oh…Oh man. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to…"

The doctor laughed heartily and shook his head with a smile to only wince afterward. "Hah, it's alright. I must say though, you pack a punch," He laughed once more before he suddenly remembered _why _he was socked in the face. "Since we're on that topic, what were you dreaming about? Must've been one hell'va nightmare. You started screaming a woman's name. Do you remember any of it?"

"Not really…" Cameron murmured and stilled himself while feeling the binding of the gauze being wrapped around his head. "I just remember bits and pieces…"

"Like what?"

"Like…I don't know. It felt hot..and grimey. And the walls were rusty and covered in blood…" Cameron bit down upon his lip and continued on. "I remember seeing someone strapped down on a table…Looked like a woman. I'm not sure."

Stalin stopped mid-way in his wrappings to carefully watch Cameron's reaction. "Do you think that might've been Ana? What is she to you?"

Cameron stiffened at the recollection of his dream.

_-Long, dark hair spilled over the gurney table…She was terrified… dirtied too…Her face…Why do I feel I should know that face?...-_

"I…I don't know, Doctor. Honestly, I don't…But there's this gut feeling that I should…That I should _know _her and she should be something to me," Cameron muttered miserably and hung his head once Stalin had finished the gauze, "but right now, I just can't put my finger on it."

It was then that Cameron felt the reassuring warmth of the doctor's firm hand upon his shoulder. "Look, don't stress yourself over it. Things will fall into place for you when the right time comes. For now, you focus on getting your rest. The first thing tomorrow morning, you'll be getting x-rays to see if anything's been damaged internally and then we'll go over some tests to see if you're able to perform normal functions. Everything'll go by quickly so you can go home as soon as possible," The warmth left Cameron's shoulder as the doctor stood up. Just as he was about to take his leave, he suddenly stopped, turning back to Cameron with a waggling of his finger, "Oh, about that. You might want to give someone a call to give you a ride back home. Don't uh…count on your car being there."

Just as the doctor was passing through the doorway…

"W-Wait!...Doc?"

Which stopped the doctor just in time. "Yeah?"

"…Will I be able to go home tomorrow?"

To which, the doctor only smiled. "Hopefully you will. No promises."

And with that, the doctor was gone.

Night had rolled by with Cameron still stuck in his bed. Stalin specifically ordered that he shouldn't move around more than he necessarily had to. Bathroom breaks and a shower were the only exception with the call of a nurse. Their hospital food didn't taste fantastic either. The entire course of grilled chicken, steamed vegetables and mashed potatoes all looked like plastic, but tasted like cardboard. The Jell-o? He tasted way better crap than that. Hell, anything tasted better than sugar-free Jell-o. And here the nurse said it was supposed to be cherry-flavored. Bah!

He began to flip through the T.V. channels the hospital had to offer.

_Our top story of the ni—_

**Click.**

_Watch as the cheetah stalks it's prey—_

**Click.**

_C'mon girls! Let's bring it—_

**Click.**

_In other news, the search for twenty-four year old Ana Brooks continues. According to police reports…_

Cameron's finger waivered over the channel button as he focused upon the small T.V. screen that suddenly piqued his interest and slowly sat up as a picture of the woman appeared upon the screen.

_-Long, dark hair!...brown eyes…! This has to be a coincidence.-_

Even as Cameron's stomach began to twist into vicious knots and threatened to reject the 'cardboard' meal he had just a half an hour ago, the reporter continued on, oblivious to the horror it cast upon him.

_Her co-workers at the Silent Hill Alchemilla Hospital claimed to have last seen her four days ago when she ended her shift at approximately 9 P.M... If anyone has any information on her whereabouts, please give us a call at…_

He quickly changed the channel to the comedy station and sank back into his pillows, staring through the T.V. rather than watching it.

_-How is that possible? How can I dream of someone who I can't remember for the life of me…that's gone missing? Who is she and why did I dream of her like that? Maybe I met her somewhere…Or maybe I saw her on the news before…But why did my dream involve her…-_

"Mr. Black? Sir?"

Cameron suddenly snapped out of his daze with a sudden yelp and startled the petite nurse before him. She immediately shrank back as arms flailed about in his freight. He was tempted to glare at her for giving him such a scare! SJesus. If she said "BOO!", then he probably would've dropped like a rock. For now, he worked quickly to regain his bearings as she handed him a cup of two blue pills and another filled with water.

"D-Don't scare me like that…" He breathed before eyeing at the pills. "What're these for?"

"Um…It's…They're ...You take them to help you sleep better at night. Dr. Stalin said you had a really bad nightmare…"

_-Oh. Right.-_

Without anymore said, he chucked the pills into his mouth and washed them down thoroughly with the water that tasted far better than the food they dished out. One would think that doctors would want their patients to eat 'healthy food'. "Thanks," he said and gave up the empty cups so she could take her leave.

"Good night, Mr. Black."

"Night."

**Brahms Hospital, Room 141**

**February 11****th****, 2010. 2:37 A.M.**

_Why….?_

…

_Whhhhyyy..?_

...

_WHHHHY?!..._

Eyes pried open to stare at the large red numbers of the alarm clock resting upon his nightstand.

_-Two in the god-damn morning…Who the fuck is awake at two in the god-damn morning?-_

Either that or he deduced that some old fart was watching the T.V. and fell asleep while it continued on without them at the maximum volume. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked about within the darkness of his room. Having the bedside light being the only source of illumination, it didn't stretch out to reveal the darkest corners of his room.

_-Jesus, it's cold in here…-_

He pulled up the blankets closer to his shivering form. How in the world did he stay comatose for three days!? It felt as if they had stuck him in an ice box and forgot they did such a thing. Nurses had graveyard shifts, right? So he snatched up the call button and pressed.

Nothing happened.

"What the hell?" he grumbled and pressed it over and over again. Not a beep came from the damn thing. Instead, the T.V. had miraculously turned itself on to white noise and roared with static. The poor man jumped in his bed, turning his attention towards the T.V. now. How the fuck did it turn on?

_-The remote's on the table…So what the hell?-_

Great. It was cold as fuck in this place, the T.V. was going on an annoying blitz, and it was two-thirty in the god-damn morning. Snatching up the remote, he grumbled some more and pressed the off button.

Again, nothing happened. Seemed like his luck with technology began to slip.

"God-damnit…"

Against the doctor's orders, Cameron slipped from the comforts of his blankets and off his bed, wobbling as he rose to his feet. The room began to spin, colors began to bleed into each other, and the static blaring from the T.V. was louder than it should've been. Nausea instantly turned and twisted his stomach and he fought to compose himself. Eyes squeezed shut and fingers pinched the bridge of his nose while he leaned against his bed. Holy jesus. If he knew that things would be this bad when he got out bed, he would've happily stayed snuggled in his warm blankets and actually appreciate the cardboard-tasting food the hospital had to give him. Whatever.

It took a while, but Cameron was patient enough to let the wave of nausea and dizziness fade away. He was already out of bed and if he went back in, then he would've suffered for nothing. Just when he thought he was getting better, there was something else that troubled him. Something else that he smelled and it smelled foul. It smelled coppery, old, and…rotting.

_-Blood?...-_

He opened his eyes and watched in horror as the lights began to flicker and the paint upon the walls suddenly _peel _away to reveal the bloody, rusted walls beneath. Even the white-tiled surface of the floor began to melt away, revealing the grated floors that kept him safe from the giant gears and their mysterious workings beneath. He felt the heat rising and the perspiration that beaded and bled into the fresh gauze wrapped around his head. The very chair that Dr. Stalin had previously occupied flew into the wall by an unseen force and smashed into pieces. The nightstand began to rot away as the coffee table also smashed into the wall, leaving scattered debris upon the grated floors. He wanted to turn to the safety of his bed, but that too began to rot away. Pristine white sheets began to yellow and stain, even molding as the mattress began to sink.

"Wh…What is this…?" he muttered to himself. Was this another dream? Yeah, it had to be! Beds didn't suddenly morph into a yellowed, moldy mess and paint didn't peel off the walls and ceiling and float into the sky to god knows where. Furniture didn't suddenly smash themselves against walls and he was sure as fuck that giant gears didn't appear under the rusted, grated floors that _should _be tiled and cold. Now, the air was warm, sticky, and it felt vile. Too vile to breathe in. The stench, the sickly warmth…It stuck to his skin and clung to the hospital garments he was forced to wear. What the hell was this? He made yet another note to NEVER take those questionable pills again! He'd hide them under his tongue and pray they don't check underneath as well. Just as he was about to turn to the door, he heard a sound. A distinctive, raspy breath that shakily echoed from the closet in the corner closer to the barred windows. Whomever or whatever it was, began to gasp, shriek, and moan behind the bloodied steel doors.

Instincts told him to turn away. To just open the door and get the fuck outta there but…

Something was drawing him towards those god-awful noises, pulling him closer and closer to where the moaning became more distinct. Well, in a sense that they were unintelligible gibberish that he still couldn't comprehend. "H-Hello?..." he said before swallowing the hardened lump that formed in his throat as he reached for the closet door that had cracked open during the time it had taken for him to finally approach it. The incessant mutterings immediately ceased, but what scared Cameron even more was the fact that he couldn't hear anything around him. Not the white noise of the T.V. that had disturbed him in the first place. Nor the grinding gears that continued to function beneath the rusted grates that he scraped his bare feet upon. There was nothing. A pin could drop and he'd be able to tell anyone where it was.

Then he heard the hoarse whisper.

"_It hurts…It hurts…"_

The fear began to melt now into confusion. What the hell was all of this? And how did his room suddenly morph into a shit hole like this as if Lucifer himself had the dire need to give this specific room a makeover? Better yet, why was someone in his closet? None of it made any sense to him, but given how this…stranger in his closet began to painfully cry and whimper, he reached to open the closet door.

"Don't worry…I can…Someone can help you…"

Suddenly, a pale, skinny hand shot forth from the darkness of the crack and latched painfully onto his forearm. He felt the hot singe of skin under that tightened, undead grasp that refused to let him go. The being that hid in the closet for so long, burst free from it's darkened imprisonment and screamed a scream that rang loudly in Cameron's ears. The being was no other than the very girl that he had seen on the news. In his dreams…and now he saw her face to face. Lacerations covered her bloodied arms and tore into the crimson-stained uniform he had last seen her in. What was once her long, dark and silk black hair, was now chopped in a hap-hazard-like style as if someone had taken a butcher knife and had gone off on the beautiful locks. He had expected to be staring into an angry set of beautiful hazel hues like in the picture, but he now only stared at the emptied eye sockets where blood streamed down like freshly made tears. Her ear piercing scream was all that he could hear. He felt his mouth open up, but he wasn't so sure as to whether he screamed or not. And just as her horrid face drew closer and closer….

Cameron woke up on his bed. Eyes instantly flashed open and he bolted upright in his bed, quickly scanning his room that had somehow turned back to normal. The same old white-washed walls, the sterilized tiles…and there was the smell of fresh air that had drafted in from the opened window next to the closet he could've sworn he was just investigating before coming to in his bed. He managed to recollect himself and struggle to calm the heart that was ready to explode in his chest from those horrific images while watching the white curtains flutter in the gentle breeze. The crisp breeze only made him shiver and curl up further into his blankets. Thanks to the cold sweat that soaked into his hospital gown, the room was colder than ever and the damp blankets didn't help either. In a way, he was grateful things were back to the crappy reality that he lived in. Knowing this let Cameron heave a sigh. "Thank god…It was all just a dream…"

But his relief soon turned to disbelief as a burning sensation thrived upon his forearm as the blankets brushed the delicate flesh. Cameron hissed and lifted his arm to see the proof that maybe things weren't so alright after all. That things were going to become more horrific as time went on by and this was only the beginning of his nightmares soon to come..

An imprint of a human hand had been burned into his reddened, irritated skin that felt hot to the touch. Just hovering his free hand over the wound caused much discomfort and recalling the dream where that girl had grabbed the very same forearm had sent his heart racing again. "What the fuck is going on…" he muttered to himself before a feminine gasp grabbed his attention.

It was the nurse who had given him the sleep medication the night before. "What happened?!" the nurse cried out and hurriedly set the breakfast tray upon the nightstand and immediately began to inspect the fresh wound. Gingerly, she took his forearm and looked it over with a puzzled expression. The man couldn't have done it to himself and even if he did manage to pull this off, what could he have used to burn himself like that? Burns didn't take solid shape of handprints—let alone, small, feminine like handprints. "How…?" the nurse trailed off the moment she saw the bafflement reflected upon his face as well.

"I-I don't know…I woke up and…it was like this.." he decided to leave out that crazy dream for now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Brahms Police Station**

**Feburary 11****th****, 2010. 3:21 PM**

Paperwork.

Paperwork is all that she did. No matter how much paperwork she had gotten through in a single day, there always seemed to be more and more piling in. Just as another officer placed a stack of manila folders onto her already crowded desk, she sneered at the fresh pile before scowling at the poor officer who took it as a hint to get lost.

Ever since she had gotten promoted to being a detective, all she ever did was swim in endless amounts of case files, reports, and other random bullshit in her life that took the form of bills and rent to pay. Blowing some hot steam through the nostrils, emerald hues tore their hateful gaze away from the fresh stack and eyed at the report she had been procrastinating on for the past few days. The pen scribbled furiously over the slots she needed to fill until…

The pen decided to bleed a few excessive blotches onto the last section she needed to fill, obscuring most of what she already had written down. "Fuck…" she grumbled and quickly tossed the pen away, snatching up a tissue from the box beside her and feverously rubbed her fingers of the sticky black ink. Carefully, she dabbed away the excessive ink droplets and reached over for the whiteout she constantly kept at her side.

In doing so however, knocked a stack of old manila folders right over her report, some toppling over the edge of her already cramped desk.

"…" she felt her eye twitch, her heart pound and…

"ARGH! FUCK!" she suddenly screamed out and swiped away a good portion of both folders and some of the decorations upon her desk she had actually forgotten was there—even knocking the desk lamp over that fell into the trash can. "I HATE this shit!" she growled and ground her teeth before that furious gaze lifted towards other fellow co-workers who stopped in their tracks from her sudden outburst. Hell, some of them probably witnessed some steam shooting out from flared nostrils before she suddenly slammed her hands down upon her desk and rose from her seat. "WHAT'RE YOU LOOKING AT!?" she roared at the others, causing some to flinch and others to hurry the hell away from her opened office door.

-calm down…you're the one making the scene here..-

With a heavy sigh, she sank back into her chair and snatched up the rabbit stress ball she managed to discover after knocking the files away, squeezing it harder than she normally would on a regular day. Fingers combed through the fiery red locks she considered as a "mop" of hair since she hardly found time to actually style it. Just when she thought she could calm her nerves, a sudden knock upon her office door had that fiery emerald gaze settle upon someone else who decided to bother her.

…Someone who had two cups of delicious black coffee and a bag of goodies from "Heaven's donuts" located across the street. The man had a big grin upon his Puerto Rican face that made his moustache stretch farther than it should. "So…I take it you're having an 'off' day?" he said with much amusement at the comical sight of the giant stacks upon her desk and the mess of folders scattered all over the floor. He was only met with a growl as he took up the only other seat not cluttered with paperwork and watched as the woman immediately leaned over her desk and snatched up a coffee from the cardboard holder and plunk back down into her seat. This only made him laugh while setting down his own coffee and the package of good ol' donuts to take down some of the stacks just so he could at least see her scowling face. "I'll take that as a yes…" he chuckled and watched as she only grunted in response and squeezed the pink rabbit stress ball in her hand.

"Thanks for the coffee…" she muttered and squeezed the rabbit a final time before giving the poor thing a break and tossing it back onto the desk.

"Don't mention…" he trailed off as chocolate hues instantly focused upon the little 'Robbie the Rabbit stress ball'. Now this had him impressed as he retrieved the bag and handed it over to his partner. "Well now! I didn't think you'd keep that thing around! God, it was years ago! Remember we had to get down to the amusement park in Silent Hill? And you wanted to punch the hell out of that asswipe who thought the park staff kidnapped his kid?"

Ah, she did recall that "intimate" moment between herself and the man. Apparently while he and his wife decided to take a ride in the 'Tunnel of Love', the child managed to disappear and the man had insisted that the staff had kidnapped his child. He was in a blind rage, screaming obscenities at the staff members and even herself in the process. As she argued with the man, her partner Andrew Martinez, had the ride permanently shut down just so he and two other park staff could venture inside for the child. Sure enough, they did find him huddled in a corner and crying his little eyes out. Even if she won the verbal argument, the man still insisted that policemen in general should "do their jobs" as he nastily put it.

To hear Martinez bring up such an old memory had her finally crack that stern gaze and give in to a good chuckle. "Yeah, yeah, I remember that…You got it for me afterward 'cause you said my face was turning as red as my hair," she nodded and busied herself with rummaging in the bag of sweets, pulling out a white-frosted sprinkled cake donut she instantly took a big bite out of. "Anywhey, why would I throe eet awai?" she spoke with a full mouth, "damn fing dosh itsh job."

Martinez only laughed at the sight of her eagerly wolfing down her donut and coffee. No matter what, he was always there to either break up a fight between her and another, or there to finally crack a smile on that youthful face that always seemed so scrunched up in anger all the time. Really, he constantly told her to at least laugh more than thirty minutes every day or else those wrinkles that formed from her constant furrowing brows would actually become permanent. Now as he watched her scarf down the donut and move on to the next, he tsked her before reaching into the bag to help himself to a long john. "You know, you keep eating like that, and you're gonna get fat…And I don't want a fat partner," he commented before taking a bite of that cream-filled morsel, "Just think…Detective Jezza Bishop!...fat _and _unhappy. Then again, that might just suit you…"

That only got a scowl from her before she picked up a random manila folder to whap him on the head. Too bad he rose a forearm in defense, but that only spilled some coffee in his lap. Just hearing the string of curses and the sight of crumbs spewing from his mouth and dropping onto his lap had her satisfied enough. "Shut up. See? That's what you get…Now, what's all this for anyway? I know you want something," she commented before finishing the rest of her second donut and leaned back, taking a generous gulp of her straight-black coffee. Martinez always had to make a stupid comment about her and her guilty pleasures of eating junk food…So what if she did? She worked out at least four times a week just to stay fit! She sulked in those thoughts before Martinez gave up trying to rub out the coffee stain upon the crotch of his beige slacks and picked up something else to add onto her collection piled upon her desk; another manila folder. Her gaze almost instantly hardened upon it. "Andy, I got my hands full as it is…and it's not helping that you're _not _helping me with the paperwork…"

But 'Andy' cut her off, tsking once again as he dropped it on the desk before her. "No, no, no, no! Just open it," he said before he got a look from her that only made his eyes roll, "C'mon, just do it. I think you'll like this case and besides, no one wants to take it."

She snorted and opened up the file, "And why's that?"

"Because…It has something to do with Silent Hill," he grinned mischievously and wiggled his fingers that held his long john before his grip became loose and nearly dropped his pastry.

"…Stupid," she grunted and began to roam through pages. Inside, there were pictures of an apartment complex—presumably where the victim's place of residence was. There were other pictures of Brahm's hospital, and an even larger picture of a young woman around her early twenties with long, beautiful black hair to accentuate the soft hazel hues she possessed. No doubt, this woman was beautiful…and she was strikingly familiar. Jezza eyed at the picture of the smiling woman until it finally hit her.

_-The nurse on the news…Missing for five days now…-_

She looked up to Martinez who finally finished his long john and had a grin on his face that unfortunately had some leftover cream in the corner of his lip. With a sigh, she swiped up her napkin and reached over to get rid of the cream. "For once, can you eat properly?"

"Hey, I was saving that…"

She only smirked and sat back in her chair, leafing through the report. "So, that's the only reason why? I don't get it…It's just another missing person…What's it got to do with Silent Hill?"

"Well…" Martinez grunted while getting comfortable in his chair, "Police came down to the hospital shortly after she was reported missing from one of hospital staff members—presumably her friend."

"What about her relatives? Shouldn't they be the ones doing the filing?"

Martinez only shook his head, "She doesn't have any close relatives. Mother passed away four months…Father packed up and left when she was born. She's an only child."

"Damn that sucks…"

"Yeah. Anyway, the staff members that knew her, said that her fiancée was going to surprise her on valentine's day. Something along the lines of taking her to silent hill for a valentine's day scare."

Now, Jezza became a little more interested than before, "Go on…"

"So she ends her shift at exactly 9PM. She was picked up by a male fifteen minutes later in a white Toyota Tacoma and then? That's the last that anyone's seen her."

"Well, don't you think she might've taken a vacation she didn't tell her friends about? Or maybe called in sick?"

Martinez only grinned, "I went down there earlier this morning to ask for her records. The woman does her job! Comes in at noon and leaves at nine every day, six days a week. Hardly calls in sick…and when I checked with the person in charge, they said that she never requested for vacation before she disappeared. They say she's the hard working-type, not the type to suddenly pack their bags and scurry away."

Jezza hummed in thought as she quickly skimmed through the written reports and statements neatly organized in the folder. "Did they know who it was that picked her up?"

"No. They all said she left in a hurry."

"Strange…"

"No," Martinez spoke up once again, his face brightening up the moment Jezza looked him in the eye, "What's strange, is that around four in the morning the very next day, her fiancée got into a bad car accident. Guess where he was headed from?"

"Silent Hill…"

"Bingo…and you know what people around here say about that town…Whomever goes there, goes there for no good…"

Martinez did have a point. Nothing ever good happened when people were involved with Silent Hill. It first began in the nineteen-nineties where a man got into a car accident while driving through the fog. His daughter ended up in Silent Hill.

"Yeah, that's true…Hey, isn't Silent Hill where that cop…"

"Yup. Cybil Bennet. I don't know the real reasons why she drove into that town, but no one's heard of her since."

"and…that other guy a few years later? Some guy…"

"James? Yeah…His wife died three years before that day he disappeared. Heard he was a good man with a great head on his shoulders…"

Jezza nodded and sipped her coffee in silence before something dawned on her that made her want to kick herself in the face for not realizing this earlier. She leapt up from her chair and immediately marched over to her office door to slam and lock it shut. Her partner stared with a quizzical look as she immediately marched back to her desk and reached down, picking up a selective amount of folders before she began to explore the other stacks. "What're you doing?"

"These people…They all have a connection! WHY haven't I seen this before?..."

"Seen what?"

Finally finding the right folders, she opened one that was slightly stained from age. "Harry Mason, that guy you mentioned in the nineteen-nineties who's daughter got lost in Silent Hill. Then…" she pulled out another file just as aged as the first, opening it to reveal a young blonde woman in the standard issued police uniform, smiling happily into the camera with a salute. "Cybil Bennet, she disappears in…Silent Hill. Years later…" She went back to the first folder, showing the picture of Harry Mason dead in his own chair where the obvious cause of death was the hole in his chest. "Harry Mason is murdered…By who? It still remains a mystery…Heather Mason was the one to discover his body."

Martinez loomed over, pushing the stacks away just so he could snake himself between them and observe the sudden findings that Jezza began to piece together. "Then there's James Sunderland who's wife died three years before he went to Silent Hill and never returned. Why did he go in the first place? Again, no one knows this…In 2000, Walter Sullivan went on a murder spree, killing ten people before he killed himself. He was an orphan of guess where?"

Martinez wrinkled his nose in thought, "Silent Hill Wish House?"

"Exactly."

"I remember that! He killed ten people, then killed himself in prison by jamming a spoon in his neck. Then all the sudden, there's some god-damn copycat continuing his murderous spree."

"Yeah, they discovered nineteen bodies and the twentieth victim, Eileen Galvin, died in the hospital from her injuries. People think that Henry Townshend was the copycat since he disappeared shortly after Eileen's death. No one's ever found him though…"

"Jesus…"

Jezza pulled out the last folder, opening it to reveal a picture of a man in his mid twenties who looked exhausted with those excess baggage under his eyes. He wore a hospital gown and his gaze towards the camera looked as if he were nothing but an empty shell. "In 2008, Alex Shepherd was discharged from the hospital to return back to his home in Shepherd's Glen…that's only across the lake from Silent Hill. The reason why he was put in the mental institution was because he had a severe mental breakdown after his brother died in an accident upon their boat. Ended up drowning in Toluca lake."

"He went missing too?"

"Well…No. Some teenagers that wanted to go camping around Silent Hill forest found him. He just kept screaming…and eventually, they had to put him back in the institution."

Martinez whistled and soon sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "So all the cases you have piled on your desk…What all these victims have in common is…Silent Hill?"

Jezza nodded. "It looks like it…Anyway, did Anna Brooks' boyfriend survive the accident?"

"Yeah, he was admitted to brahm's hospital in critical condition. Don't know how—"

"We need to talk to him."

Jezza's partner slowly sat up in his chair and eyed at her determination. "Well…Yeah, but this guy just got out of a _car accident_, Jezza. You really think he's gonna be able to ask any questions after being all doped up?"

True. Again, Martinez had a point, but Jezza only sighed and rose from her desk, gingerly stepping over the scattered folders to snatch up her coat from it's rack, "I know…But he's our only lead, Andy. It doesn't hurt to try, right?"

"But—" Martinez stopped short of his protest as she unlocked and opened the door, looking back at him with a rather triumphant, smug grin. _Uh-oh…_

"Fine. Stay here…and when the chief gets in? You can explain _why _none of this paperwork's done yet since _you _won't help me do it," she quipped and shut the door behind her, leaving Martinez to grumble a few insults about his partner's parentage until he got up and rushed for the door.

**Brahms Hospital, Room 237**

**Feburary 11****th****, 5:30 PM**

The day had crawled along much slower than he could endure. Like Stalin promised, tests began almost immediately. Scans, physicals, everything just to make sure that Cameron was in piece both on the inside and outside. As he finally got to his room, he was sick of seeing doctors, nurses, and their needles. That was way too much for a single day…And not to mention, Stalin wanted Cameron to stay at least one more night just so they could get the results of the test and figure out which medications were necessary along the road to his recovery. The only problem Stalin diagnosed was that Cameron was suffering from a bout of Amnesia that could continue to affect him for hours, days, or even years. It all would come together sometime soon and Cameron was forced to accept that fact.

For now, he rested within the comforts of his room, sprawled upon his bed while watching the last few minutes of yet another low-budget movie that he couldn't put his finger on. He hoped to god that he wouldn't have to endure much of this crap anymore. Hospitals sucked, no matter how much doctors want people to stay healthy.

"_He's in Room 237, this way….What did you two need to speak to him about?"_

Almost instantly, Cameron's ears picked up the saying of his room number that echoed so easily throughout the hall and reverberated into his room. It was Stalin, of course…But the other voice? It sounded feminine…and quite determined to see him for some odd reason.

"_We need to ask him a few questions…We promise we won't take up much of his or your time."_

"_I don't think he'll be much help for you…He's suffering from amnesia. He can't remember the past few days prior to his accident."_

"_It doesn't hurt to try, now does it? We promise it'll only be a few questions…"_

"…_Alright."_

Rather than finding out the title for the next low-budget movie featuring, he fixed his gaze upon the door and held his breath. The distinct footfalls…they grew louder and louder until two people entered his room; a man and a woman. The man looked to be in his late thirties of Hispanic origin. His dark hair was a messy, spiked style, but that seemed to match him in an odd way. Maybe it was the moustache and the goatee…Or maybe it was the dark brown trench coat he kept on him (which looked extremely comfortable in Cameron's opinion). Either way, he looked professional and even tried to adjust his black tie in a professional-like manner.

The woman looked much younger, and judging from the stern stare, she meant business. –A fiery red head- he thought to himself as his gaze locked onto those intimidating emeralds. She too wore a coat, only black instead and ending at the knees. White undershirt, black tie, and a black skirt that ended at the knees as well. He couldn't tell what she wore on her feet since…He didn't want to look like he was "surveying" her. Well, maybe it was a bit too late for that since she suddenly tsked. Oops.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and speak, the man pulled out a badge and flipped it to show his I.D. "I'm detective Martinez and this is my partner, Detective Bishop. We're here just to ask you a few questions if you don't mind?"

"Uhm…" Cameron swallowed a hard lump in his throat, "I can try…But I'm telling you now…I don't remember much…of Anything."

Martinez only returned a smile to Cameron, stretching that moustache farther than it looked like it should. "Good…Now, we're investigating the case of a missing woman…" he started off while pulling a chair close to Cameron's bedside to have a seat. The woman however, chose to remain by the door, crossing her arms and keeping her focus upon the two men. "Ana Brooks, twenty-four years old. Worked at Brahms Hospital and was last seen in Feburary 7th…"

Cameron instantly stiffened. Why was it that this girl's name popped up all over the fucking place? Just hearing the name alone had chills travel down his spine, the hair on his arms and neck stand, and his heart race. That name instantly reminded him of his dreams—no, those _nightmares _that plagued him for two nights in a row…The very nightmares he had of that woman. From the time where she was ravaged by that bizarre beast, down to where she had hid in the hospital closet and burst from it the moment he tried to reach out to her.

Despite that sweet, loving picture of the woman that Detective Martinez pulled out, it held a…far more sinister meaning to Cameron. Almost instantly, he shrank back into the comforts of his pillows, staring into the warm, gentle gaze she would forever more return in that little picture. The nightmares began to return to him, sending another onslaught of shivers that riveted down his spine.

"I-I don't know her…I don't remember much…Of anything. I'm sorry, I can't help..you…" Cameron stumbled over his words in a poor attempt to help the Detective out. As much as he struggled to hide his fears from the man, Cameron knew right away that he pleased the detective with his slight, but sudden reactions. He just wished that they would go away…That he could go back to the dull T.V. and it's crap-tastical low-budget movies that only cheap directors could afford. No, instead, the detective pushed further.

_-Please just go away…-_

"Nothing at all? C'mon Cameron…You have to remember. You know her…You should know her very well…"

Funny, the little voice in the back of Cameron's head kept saying the same thing. He felt a lump—no, a _rock _slide uncomfortably down his throat. Why was he being bothered with a woman that never existed to him?...

"I-I don't! Why're you bothering me with this!? Why is everyone asking me about her!?" Cameron's voice began to rise without knowing it. His chest tightened again for the second time. Perspiration began to bead upon his forehead and the urge to purge his lunch grew stronger with every sickening second that slowly ticked by. "Just—"

Martinez interrupted him this time, hovering the picture closer to Cameron's face while his words cut clean through Cameron's unfinished plea. "Ana Brooks is your fiancée."

**A/N: shorter than the last chap, I know..Hmpf! Anyway, here's another chapter to keep my readers (if there are any) busy. I'll keep getting to it…**

**And for the people who read my other story, Regrets..I'm having difficulty trying to start off the next chap so gimmie some time for that, okay? **


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: WHEW! Long-ass chapter…and I'm happy I'm at least writing lengthy chapters for my friends and fellow readers ( WOOT I GOT MORE!) to enjoy. I'd like to thank Cjjs (like always. :3 ) for checking out my stuff and being a dedicated reader to my work (despite how SLOW I can be at updating). Really, go check out his stuff too, guys! **

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter…I put a lot of work into this one. X_x I've been on this writing spree, so that better be good for you all. LOL. No flame-tastic shit please. If you don't like it, then go find somethin' else.**

"_Ana Brooks is your fiancée."_

He released A breath he unknowingly held as his eyes widened like saucers. His…Fiancée? Almost instantly, a wave of nausea slammed into his stomach and sucker punched his face with a blinding pain that attacked his sinuses. Fingers began to dig into his skull as he hunched over and away from the comfort of his pillows, causing the detective to suddenly back away in surprise. "A-Ana…" his quivering lips managed to whisper her name. Just her name alone sent him spiraling into chaos! His body grew hot, sweat began to glisten upon his skin, and the blinding pain began to spread like a disease throughout his head and mercilessly attacked his brain. "A-Ana..!"

"Cameron? Cameron, what's wrong?" Martinez tried to take a hold of the poor man's shoulder, but he only shrank back from his touch. He casted a worried glance towards his partner who looked just as concerned. For all they knew, they probably lit this man's fuse and only had mere seconds before he'd explode. From the way he clenched his hair, Martinez was actually expecting him to tear his head in two. "J-Jezza…"

Detective Bishop finally pushed herself away from the wall and came to Cameron's bedside. What to do? This guy was having a panic attack!...No, it was probably a façade—a façade just for others to take pity upon him. Martinez quickly rose from his chair to fetch a nurse, but Bishop's reflexes were too quick for him as she snatched his wrist. "What're you—" Martinez hissed only to be overridden by Jezza's condescending interrogation.

"You remember now, don't you? Tell us, where were you on the night she disappeared?" she suddenly demanded, but received no answer from the shivering man that only made her scowl.

"She's _missing_, Cameron. Your god-damn fiancée is _missing!_ You've GOT to remember something!"

"I-I can't remember!!"

It only caused anger to boil in the young woman. Scumbag…Liar! Something about him just set her off in the worst way. She suddenly gritted her teeth and snatched up Cameron by the collar of his hospital gown, only taking notice now just how pale the man was. Even if she wanted to, the sudden anger and resentment began to take over. No stopping now, even if Martinez suddenly began to pull her away.

"I KNOW you can! Stop bullshitting me! She's dead isn't she!?"

Martinez growled and finally managed to yank his partner away. "Jezza, stop!"

"Isn't she!?"

It was overwhelming. It was just too much to take in. "NO!" Cameron screamed over the rushed beeps of his heart monitor as he stared upon the two detectives with a crazed, bewildered gaze.

_-Ana…-_

Suddenly, the whitewashed walls of the room grew brighter and brighter, swallowing up everything and everyone in a blinding light that harshly dilated his pupils. Eyes squeezed shut to fight the pain, but once he opened them, he was…

* * *

…in a red room. Everything in the room was bathed in a red light. Drying photos were strung up by rows of three, each clipped and handled with much care. Majority of the photos were landscape types. There were even photos of the local subway in which the angles that they were taken in, made it more interesting than it usually was. Old couples walking in a park, dogs running about…There were many.

Speaking of photos, he looked down at the set of tongs in his left hand that gingerly began to poke and swish the photo paper submerged in development fluid. Eventually, the picture itself began to show, bleeding blacks and grays began to show the shape at first. Detail followed shortly after, forming the features of a beautiful woman whom he loved to take pictures of. Those lovely eyes, pearly white teeth, long…beautiful dark hair…He felt a smile creep across his face, admiring and priding himself for captivating her beauty with perfection. Suddenly, a crack of light shone upon the wall before him that soon disappeared. Apparently, he wasn't alone anymore.

"I'm home now…How's the love of my life doing?" purred a feminine voice from the closed door. He heard her slowly saunter towards him. He knew she took some time considering that even he himself had to duck under the drying photographs strung all over the room. "Oh…Doing better now that my princess has arrived," he said and turned about, abandoning his precious work just to drink in the sight of her.

There she was, all in her beautiful glory. Long, beautiful locks were clipped in a hap-hazard-like fashion that actually made the messiness acceptable. Even if she only wore a simple white t-shirt and denim jeans, she still looked like the princess that he always called her. With open arms, Ana seemed to float right into them. Arms slowly wrapped around her frame, squeezing her into a loving embrace as he took in the scent of vanilla that seemed to radiate from her.

He let a content sigh escape his parted lips as he relished in the feel of her hands upon his back rising and letting that caress glide wherever she wished. For a while, they stood there, enveloped in each other's embrace until Ana finally lifted her cheek from his chest to look up to him, offering the sweetest of smiles. "So, are we gonna see that movie tonight? You've been talking about it for the past week now…If you were someone else, I'd get sick of it!" she said with a laugh as hands left his back and managed to squeeze between them, pressing against his chest. Cameron only chuckled and kissed the top of her forehead, "Yeah, but let me finish up this last photo…Then we'll get ready, head out early so we can grab a bite to eat. Sound good for you?"

"Yeah! I can totally do that. I'm gonna go feed the cat, okay?" she said and returned the kiss to his lips. She'd wriggle herself free from his embrace to leave, but a hand caught her wrist which only made her giggle and stop in her place. "Alright, what do you want?"

"A favor. Gonna need your help. Can you get the container with a white cover on the top shelf? Careful though, there's some stuff in there that might break if you drop it," he replied and let her warm wrist slip from his gentle grasp. Ana nodded and went straight for the shelf as he turned back to finish developing his photos. He knew right away that she was a clumsy one—always too lazy to go find a step-ladder if things were just out of her reach. He knew that she'd tip toe..reach…and then...

_Thump!_

"Oh crap!"

And then he heard the plastic container roll…with something rattling inside of it. Her clumsiness was probably the only reason why it was a rarity that he ever asked for her assistance. The last time she did, she ruined a good set of photos and constantly apologized about them for the rest of that day. Even if he forgave her, there were times that he'd never let her forget about it.

"I'm so sorry!"

He didn't turn around. Instead, he feigned an annoyed sigh. "I think you might've broken something in it…Open it and check for me, please?"

He heard the container roll about along the floor until she swept it up, grumbling under her breath while unscrewing the top. He took the opportunity to peer over his shoulder at her dumping out the contents…and freezing in place.

"C-Cameron…" she murmured as the container slipped from her hands and clattered noisily on the floor as she picked the small diamond ring from the palm of her hand. It was only a small gold ring with a tiny diamond to top it off. Simple, but it was beautiful in her eyes and she knew what the real meaning was behind it. Before she knew it, she felt arms wrap around her mid-section and the warm, gentle breath that washed upon the nape of her neck. "Do you like it?" Cameron whispered in her ear as he reached to take it from her quivering hands.

"I love it…" she whispered back and held her hand out. He slipped the ring onto her proper finger, having it slide on with much ease.

"So…Will you marry me?"

She chuckled and turned in his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck with a bit of tears developing in her eyes. "Yeah, I'll marry you…how can I say no?"

* * *

But within another blink, he was back to reality again, slapped harshly in the face with the dire situation at hand.

Where…Was Ana?

"Cameron? Cameron, are you alright?" Martinez spoke up once again as he held his partner in place and stared down upon the patient with a worried look on his face. The last thing Martinez needed was this guy flipping ou—

"Where is she?..." Cameron managed to sputter from his flapping lips as he struggled to find the will to speak.

"We don't know…That's why we're here asking you a few questions. Don't worry. We're gonna do—"

"NO! That's not enough! I've gotta find her!"

Martinez cringed on the inside as the heart rate monitor started to go off the charts again. Shit. "Cameron, we're going to—"

"N-No fuck you! I've gotta find her now! S-She's in danger!" Cameron shrieked and sat up, ignoring the nausea that swept over him and reached for the IV the nurse had plugged into his arm when he returned from the tests and ripped the patch of gauze from the spot.

"Wait! How do you know she's in danger, Cameron? Talk to me!" Martinez demanded and pushed himself away from his partner, gripping the bedside as Cameron took a hold of the I.V. Tubes. Cameron only hastily shook his head and braced for what was about to happen.

"I-I just know she is! I have to FIND her!"

He gave the tubes a good yank, having the needle rip free from his arm and blood to soon seep from the small wound. It traced a thick line along his arm until a fresh bead of blood stained the sheets, followed by another..and another…

…And Cameron paid no mind to this as he ripped the small monitor patches from his chest, causing the monitor itself to suddenly flat line and Martinez to back away. Both the detectives froze in place, unaware of what to do to calm this man, but thankfully, the nurse keeping watch over them ran into the room just in time.

"What're you two doing in here!?" she cried out and looked onward to the determined man who began to scramble off his bed. "N-No Mr. Black! Please, you have to stay in bed!" She nearly pleaded and started to push him back into bed, but Cameron had enough of this! He began to fight back with the nurse. "GET AWAY FROM ME! I HAVE TO SEE HER!" he screamed out and gave one final shove, sending the petite nurse onto the floor. Again on que, Stalin rushed in with two male nurses, looking between the speechless detectives, the wobbly, but determined Cameron, and the female nurse who finally gotten upon two feet again.

"What the hell is going on here?" Stalin immediately glared daggers at the two detectives until…

"Get out of my way, doctor…I have to find her," Cameron warned in a rather menacing tone as he took wobbly steps towards the hospital staff that didn't cringe at his intimidation. Stalin came forth again, daring to attempt to calm Cameron for the second time since his stay, raising hands in defense as he spoke slowly to the now deranged patient. "Now Cameron…We both know that you need to recover. The tests will be in tomorrow…and they will show us if you've recovered enough to leave…" he reassured Cameron who only shook his head in protest. The larger male nurses slowly began to hone in on Cameron, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike and restrain.

"NO! I need to leave _now_," he emphasized and took a step closer to Stalin who stiffened in response.

"Cameron listen—"

"I said NO!" Cameron lashed out and snatched the doctor up by the collar of his pristine white coat, giving the two nurses the opportunity to snatch Cameron back and pull Stalin out of his grasp. Naturally, Cameron began to resist, making poor attempts at trying to free himself from their tightening grasp. His body began to overload and nausea kicked him in the face harder than before. Colors, shapes, and people began to swirl into a nasty smoothie before him. Eyes began to roll into the back of his head and his stomach lurched.

He didn't realize it, but he held his breath as the nausea worsened. Cameron was having a panic attack.

"Cameron! Breathe!" Stalin demanded of the patient and right on cue, hot bile spewed from Cameron's opened mouth and spilled onto the white tiles. Suddenly, he passed out, his body going limp in the men's grasp.

"Jesus…" one of the male nurses muttered and helped the other haul Cameron back onto his bed and silently cursed the vomit that splashed onto his sneakers. Stalin on the other hand, turned and marched towards the two detectives who only watched the scene from afar.

"You two…Need to leave. _Immediately,_" Stalin growled, emphasizing the last word, "I knew this would've happened…"

Detective Bishop opened her mouth to speak, but Martinez was quick to beat her with a very sincere apology. "I'm really sorry…It wasn't supposed to come down with this…"

"Well, it did and it threw my patient into a panic attack! You've done enough here, so please leave!"

Sigh. Well, that had done it. Martinez only nodded apologetically before his partner brashly pushed past the two and briskly left the room. He was quick to follow her as Stalin and the hospital staff went about their jobs and tended to their person in question. "Jezza.." he called, but she still kept walking that furious, fast pace. Having enough of this, he bristled with irritation and caught up just to snatch her up by the arm and pulled her to the side. "What the _hell _was that, Jezza? This was supposed to be just a simple question and answer session, not some "good cop, bad cop" shit. What's the matter with you!?" he hissed as Jezza pulled her arm from his grasp and looked about, avoiding those dark hues that glared daggers at her.

"That bastard's lying, Andy. I can feel it! I _know _he has something to do—"

"And _how_ do you know that, huh? LOOK how he reacted just by the hearsay of her name!"

"He DID it! I KNOW he did!"

"WE don't know everything yet, Jezza! You can't just go around, pointing your finger at any guy that happens to be involved in a missing persons case! LOOK how he reacted at the hear-say of her name!"

Other hospital staff began to turn heads towards the commotion in the hallway that only earned glares from the young woman as Martinez struggled to reason with her. He only pinched the bridge of his nose in both embarrassment and in frustration. Almost every case that they had, it was tough to bring Jezza into interrogations. When they had a suspect, she was quick to chew them up and spit them the fuck out. Sometimes, she was right on the dot, but there were a vast majority of cases in which she'd chew out the wrong suspects and nearly got written up for verbal abuse countless amount of times. He always had to pull her out of that mess, and this time was the last straw. They were in a hospital for fuck's sake!

And now here they were, nearly shouting at each other in the hallway of a hospital where there should be peace and quiet for the injured and dieing. "Look…" he sighed, "Just because they didn't find your sister's kidnapper guilty, doesn't mean that every man's gonna be like her kidnapper!"

From the glare that Jezza only reserved for the most hated and people who insisted they got her order wrong when they ate out, he felt a pang of regret from the harsh words that slipped out of his mouth. "Jezza, I—"

"No, don't," she growled and continued walking for the exit for Martinez to helplessly follow like a scolded puppy. It was true what he said. Years ago when she had just started out as a rookie officer, her sister Gemma Bishop, simply hadn't come home after school in her senior year. She was about to graduate with flying colors, leaving with a Mega Cum Laude and a few scholarships to help her get into college. She was going to study Marine Biology and become a Marine Biologist in hopes of discovering new species and even dive down into the depths of the ocean bottom someday. It was all taken away from her upon that very day she was kidnapped. Jezza struggled to find her younger sister and even promised to bring her back home. A month went by, but Gemma didn't walk through the Bishop home to be embraced in warm, welcome arms. Instead they had finally found the kidnapper, but only found out that she had been left in his basement to decay upon the bed he used to sodomize her. According to the Autopsy reports, she had been raped post-mortem…and then afterward. She had been killed the day after she went missing.

Unfortunately, everyone knew of this and always chose the option to avoid bringing up the subject. They had chosen well.

They had walked back to the parking lot and back to Martinez's car in silence. Once they got into their respective seats, they both merely sat there, swallowed by the tension that grew thick to where it could easily be cut. "Jezza…" Martinez spoke first, casting his weary gaze upon her even if she didn't look directly at him, "I'm sorry…I was way out of line and that wasn't called for…"

But before he could finish, Jezza let out a heavy sigh and sank into the black leather passenger seat. "It's…alright. I'm the one that should be sorry…I'm the one that was out of line. I just…" she clenched her teeth and rubbed roughly at her youthful face.

"I know…But still. I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"It's alright…I shouldn't be relying upon that every time I lash out on someone…Guess I can't forgive that bastard and myself, hm?"

Martinez decided to leave it at that. "Don't worry about it…Let's just call it a night, grab some Chinese, and get back to my place and watch some movies, eh? C'mon, you've been nagging me about how you haven't seen that movie…" he said with a slight grin. Jezza only kept her gaze upon her feet until he began to nudge her harder..harder…and harder until she whacked his elbow away with a faint smile. "Alright, alright, you win. Sounds like a good idea," she finally gave in which only widened that grin upon his face as he started up the car.

"Andy?"

"Yeah, sweetness?"

She made a face at that nickname, "I…Promise I won't do that again. I'll work on it…"

"Like I said, don't worry about it…We're a team, remember?"

"Yeah…We're a team…"

* * *

Cameron looked rather peaceful in his sleep, happily snug in fresh bed sheets, a new gown, and with a new I.V. drip that replaced the one he previously ripped out in his panic attack. Just fifteen minutes ago, he was ready to destroy anything or anyone who was bold enough to get in his way of finding his beloved fiancée. Only recently, did he recall just who exactly she was to him thanks to the detectives and their condescending interrogation.

After sedating Cameron, Stalin kept watch over his patient's vitals and everything seemed to be stabilized at the moment. Jesus…It only took the hear-say of her name to get him riled up in a blind rage. Nothing made sense. He emerged out of a freak accident with only few scratches and bruises rest and bandaids could easily recover. Oh, and Stalin couldn't forget the head injury that caused Cameron's amnesia. Then there was his missing fiancée…Gah, Stalin only shook his head, feeling a bit too overwhelmed with jumbling thoughts over this case. He soon left the room to only bump into the female nurse that aided in Cameron's recovery. The poor thing jumped and placed a hand to her chest. "I-I'm sorry, Doctor..!" she stammered, cheeks flushing as she turned her gaze to the floor. Stalin only chuckled, but dutifully noted the nurse was a little more jumpy than usual.

"Still shaken up? You should take the day off, Kathy…"

Nurse Kathy only shook her head as hands went to fix the messy brunette bun, "N-No doctor…I'm fine. I'll be alright. Guess it was just a real surprise, you know?...He seems like a nice guy. Wouldn't hurt a fly…"

"I know, but looks can be deceiving. That's what you learn about people in this field," Stalin replied and the nurse nodded in agreement. They stood there in silence for a moment or two before he placed a hand upon her shoulder. "If you can't continue your work with Cameron, I won't hold it against you. I can assign you to a—"

"No! I can do this. I'm gonna' have to deal with this sooner or later."

Hm. Stalin admired her determination.

"Alright…Don't worry. You're doing a great job. Just keep doing what you're doing. I'm going to have him transferred to Alchemilla hospital…"

"B-But that's in Silent Hill!"

"I know, but there's more damage than we thought there was. Cameron's memory is shattered…and just remembering that he had a fiancée sent him over the edge…There could be more…memories that he's yet to uncover and we won't be prepared for his reactions when he does get them back."

Kathy only sighed. "Yeah..You're right…But you're going to tell him, aren't you?"

"Of course…What kind of doctor would I be if I didn't?

* * *

**Brahms Hospital, Room 237**

**Feburary 12****th****, 2010. 2:37 A.M.**

_Cameron…._

…

…_Camerooon…_

…_._

…_..wake up!_

Cameron's eyes opened to view the world in a bleary gaze. His eyes watered as they concentrated on making out the shapes and swirls of colors that surrounded him. He groaned in protest, knuckles rubbing at his eyes just to help himself make better sense of his world. He should be in the car, speeding down to their humble little apartment home, but no. Instead, he still sat in his bed…In his room…Where the goddamn air conditioning was way too fucking cold for his tastes. Wiping the cold sweat that developed upon his brow, he sat up and away from the pillows, scanning the room for any forms of life. As expected, there wasn't. Actually, he would've been surprised if someone was here. Why?

"Someone called my name…" he muttered to himself and began to scoot closer to the edge of the bed. Feet kicked over, but this time he played it smart and took the time to stand upon two feet. Feeling confident that he wouldn't perform a perfect ten-point-O' face plant, he made his way for the bathroom, pulling the heavy door open and stepping inside.

It was late…and he found it strange that he had gotten up in the middle of the night on the exact same time for two nights in a row. Two Thirty-Seven…In the morning every night so far. Every time he woke up, something terrible would happen. This was the second night and he only prayed to god that it wouldn't happen again. Thinking of it made him only grind his teeth and shiver.

_-I just need to calm down….Wash your face and get back to sleep…-_

He just wished it was easier said than done.

No, it should be easier to do than it being said! He turned on the sink, letting the tap run and watched as the water spiraled down into the drain.

_-Just wash your face…and get back to sleep.-_

"Yeah…"

Hands dipped under the running tap, watching as cold, crisp water quickly fill the cup of his hands before he leaned in to splash the contents upon his face. It felt so good, so refreshing. It felt as if he had just splashed away some of the tension he had since waking up…

…But it didn't wash away the tension he felt about how to get the hell out of the hospital to find her.

He washed his face for the second time and lingered over the sink, eyes remaining closed as water steadily rolled down his face and sprinkled back into the sink. Yes…This was just what he needed.

He dipped his hands under the tap, keeping his eyes closed since it wasn't a necessity to watch what he was doing.

"Hm…"

The water felt a tad bit warmer this time, but he paid no mind to it. His hands were filled to the brim and he brought to his face, washing it one last time. His lips parted to heave a sigh, but something stopped him from doing so. Water wasn't supposed to be sticky…or was it supposed to be lukewarm since he left it on the cold side. It wasn't supposed to cling onto his hands or face…

And it wasn't supposed to smell like copper.

His eyes opened to stare down upon his hands and widened in sheer horror. It wasn't water that he splashed upon his face. It was blood. Cameron's breaths quickened as he wiped his blood-covered hands upon his hospital gown. What made matters worse is that the blood wouldn't come out—it didn't even stain his gown! It still clung to his hands like a latex glove. Oh…and he couldn't imagine his face. Already, he could taste a bit of that rotting blood that managed to get into his mouth.

The sink itself was covered in blood with the faucet still continuing to pump rotting B-Positive down the drain as Cameron screamed. He ripped the towel clean off the rack and tried to wipe his face, but that only proved to fail him as well._-This can't be real….It can't be fucking real!-_ With a shriek, he threw the towel aside and looked up to the mirror. His eyes had to be fucking with him…and if they were? He was tempted to pluck them out himself! He expected to see himself in the reflection without a speck of blood on his face or a crimson spot on his nightgown.

That wasn't the case.

What he stared at now, was not a reflection of himself, but a woman who's head hung, having scraggly black bangs obscure the view of her face. Skin was a papery white, decorated with the intertwining red, blue, green, and purple veins that spider-webbed beneath the surface. Her nurse's uniform was ripped open, revealing her pale, veined breasts that were savaged with bruisings in the shape of large, masculine hands. Gashes littered the woman's body, tearing into her uniform, exposing the crimson flesh beneath—even the collarbone that was just as white as her skin.

He held in his breath as he took in the horrific sight. It looked as if the girl had climbed out of a fresh grave…

…And at this point, he wouldn't put that thought out of his mind.

"_Whyyy…?"_She suddenly whispered in a cracked, raspy tone that Cameron could barely hear. He only squinted at the mirror and forcefully willed himself to lean closer, flinching when the woman's head twitched every so often. "Why…What? What do you want?..." He thought for a moment or two. This woman…This was the second time she had made an appearance, having the first time more physical than anything. The handprint upon his arm still stung…But the closer he got to the mirror, the more it burned. What did it mean?...

"…_Whyyy?" _she groaned as her head twitched, her neck crackling as her chest heaved up and down to suck in as much air as she could. She wheezed before him and slowly began to lift her head. Her body spasmed, jerking a shoulder, an arm, or even cracking that neck as the empty shadows of where her eyes once were, stared right back at the man on the other side of the mirror who was debating on whether he was going insane or not.

Like the night before, her face was covered in lacerations, exposing the reddened flesh beneath that now began to fester with puss and darkened blood clots. Cameron grimaced, but he couldn't turn himself away. "Is…Is that you…Ana?" Cameron murmured to the woman in the mirror who returned nothing but silence and merely stood there, twitching in spastic, sickly ways that made her body pop and crack. Cameron swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "You…You can't be dead…Tell me what you want…Why am I seeing you like this?..."

The moment he said 'dead', those pale, dry lips formed a sinister smile. Dried, flaking lips began to crack, forming new beads of blood to smear upon her curved lips. Suddenly, her arm crackled and lifted, stiffening up in a striking manner before that dead palm smashed into the mirror. Surprisingly enough, the mirror's surface _cracked_, bits of the glass spewing and sprinkling down into the blood that pooled in the sink. Cameron yelped in surprise, instantly withdrawing himself from the mirror. He knew that he should be running. He should fuck this shit, scramble out the door, and get the hell away from this hospital…AND Brahms!

Either that, or he really considered going insane to be something of comfort. That way, none of this would be really happening to him. Some nurse would hear him screaming, run into the room, and see him staring stupidly at the mirror. Then when they'd detain him, he could ramble on about how he saw some undead bitch in his mirror who tried to smash through the glass and claw out his throat.

Yeah…Yeah, that would've been more comforting than what he was experiencing now. For a moment there, he prayed to god that the nurses would come flying in and side blind him just so they could drug him up and drag his sorry ass to bed.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the case.

For some reason, he stayed glued to where he stood…and leaned in close once again. The woman resembled Ana in a grotesque way, but that couldn't be her. Ana's hair was long….and as for the eyes? Well, Cameron obviously he couldn't tell. If this woman wasn't Ana…Then really, who was she and WHY did he bother her like this? Could've just did the usual haunting and stand by his bed all night…

"…What the hell do you WANT!?" he screamed at the mirror as the woman bashed against the glass one last time, smashing through for her glass-covered hand to shoot out and latch onto his face. Cameron gasped, but for some reason, he was unable to move. He trembled under her grip and his eyes widened. A white light brightened and brightened until it blinded him….

* * *

"Hey Cameron?"

"Hm?" he snapped out of his silly little daze as he turned his attention to Ana who sat on the hood of his beat up Honda civic. From his view, he could easily make out the polka-dotted pattern on her panties, but as if he was going to be stupid and tell her that. It would just take his luxury away! Oh, and he made _sure _that he kept his eyes upon hers just so she wouldn't notice a thing.

After getting a playful punch in the arm and watching her fix her skirts, he figured he failed in his mission. Oh well, he laughed about it. "Alright, what is it?"

She combed fingers through those beautiful locks of rich black hair before turning her attention back to Toluca lake that only shimmered in the sunlight. "I wanna go somewhere…For Valentine's Day. Somewhere…Unique, you know?" she replied and fixed her skirts for the tenth time that day.

Cameron shrugged and hopped onto the hood to sit beside her. He put an arm around her waist and allowed her to lean back against him. God…her skin felt so soft…Her hair smelled like vanilla… "Alright then, you got any ideas? Sorry we can't travel out of country…" He sighed. Yeah, he would've done it if they weren't saving up for the wedding. Already, he was pulling it out of his ass for the wedding…For a trip to another country, he'd have to pull it out of his d—

"Nah, I don't wanna go out of the country…I wanna go somewhere exciting. Somewhere…that's beautiful…That has a meaning to it."

"…We could sky dive into the Grand Canyon?"

He chuckled when she delivered an elbow to his gut, "Okay, okay, I was kidding! How about we—"

"I know where to go…"

He blinked and looked down to her just as she looked up to him. And with the sweetest smile, she asked of him:

"Silent Hill….Take me to Silent Hill…"

* * *

The white light suddenly brightened again and he was back in that pathetic bathroom with a dead hand that had a vice grip on his face. Just when he thought that the woman was going to bash him into the mirror, the hand shoved him back, causing him to trip over the side of the bathtub and crash right into it. He brought down the shower curtain with him and nearly brained himself on the tiled walls. He grit his teeth through the pain and scrambled to get out of the tub as the woman began to cackle. Her maniacal laughter began to echo throughout the bathroom as the paint began to rot from the walls. The shower curtain he was wrapped around in began to yellow, mold, and resembled that of human skin sloppily stitched together. With a scream, he tore the curtain away and finally got back to his feet. All around him, the bathroom began to decay. White walls slowly began to peel away, revealing the bloodied, rusted walls. Tiles melted under his feet, exposing the same grated floors as before that scratched away at the skin of his bare heels. Last but not least, he noticed the barbed wire snaking out from behind of the mirror the woman still lurked in. Suddenly, the maniacal laughter ceased, but that grin never left her face. Instead, she began to lean forward and before Cameron's eyes, her head began to pull _through _the mirror's surface as if it were nothing more than breaking through a film of slime. It coated her greasy locks and dribbled down onto the sink. Her neck cracked here and there as her head twitched violently, followed with the sickening gasps she made. He couldn't tell whether it was from pain…or pleasure.

He wasn't going to stick around to find out.

"Y..You've gotta be fuckin' kidding ME!" he suddenly screamed and scrambled his way for the thick rusted door. Unlike before, the door had no knob, no lever to turn. Instead, there was a giant valve built in the center like the types of doors people would use in submarines. Knowing he had no time and not wanting to stick around for the woman to push through the mirror, he gripped the valve and with all his might, struggled to turn it.

Damn thing didn't budge, but hearing the sudden splash of rotting blood in the sink only made him try harder. "COME ON!" he screamed out as the pains from his burns worsened.

**Slump. **

Oh god…and she had finally gotten through the mirror. He heard her shuffle as the valve finally budged. Then he heard her gasps, wheezes, and the crackling of dead limbs as she drew closer. The _clack, clack_ of her heels only made the sweat roll down his face. Gritting his teeth a final time, he finally managed to turn the valve and the thump of the lock finally giving way was a godsend…

…Until he felt her sickly breath upon his ear.

"NO!" Cameron cried out and shoved the door just so he could stumble away and back into his room that had rotted away just like before. No…He had to get out of here…He had to get the hell out of this hellhole! Hearing the click-clacks still steadily closing in on him, he reached for the door lever, pulling it down and ripping the door open. He threw himself out and went to shove the door closed until a frail white arm shot out from the gap. In that hand, it wildly waved a rusted scalpel about, threatening to take one of Cameron's eyes out.

"_Wh..yy…are you…llleeeaving..meee?..."_

"SHUT UP!" he screamed out as the arm retreated back into the room, having him slam the door shut that suddenly locked with a click. Good…She wasn't going to come out…She wasn't going to chase him.

He panted, glaring intensely at the door. At least the burns didn't hurt anymore. Taking in his surroundings once again, he noticed the hospital hadn't changed in comparison to his room. Everything was still in that blinding, white-washed color. The tiled floors were still there, sterilized as they should be. The only problem was, there was not a soul around. Not even security personnel to suddenly side blind him for not being back in his bed. What was unnerving was the dead silence that permeated throughout the hospital.

_-I can't even hear any machines….What the fuck? Where is everyone?-_

There were just way too many questions that had no answers. Nothing made sense…But hey, maybe he could consider this a break in his rough life. If no one was around, then he could easily get away, get down to the bus stop, and hitch a ride back to his apartment. Maybe then he'd go through the door and see Ana sitting in her favorite armchair with a book in her lap, proving that everything happened so far was just one crazy-ass dream. He hoped he'd be right about this for once…


End file.
